Uniform Upgrade
by Shrrgnien
Summary: Artemis could remember a time when making a personal appearance as Goddess of the Hunt-and, not so incidentally, patron of the Amazons-would result in much more than simply being handed a pile of catalogues and a how-to guide on sizing. Z/A, goddess-lieutenant fluff.


**Uniform Upgrade**

* * *

Summer Solstice was a wonderful time, as a rule. The moon was high and bright, Olympus glittered from top to bottom, and Artemis had even managed to slip out of the obligatory Council meeting early. It was amazing what the gods neglected to notice once the lightning bolts came out; and besides, she had more important things to worry about that the potential fate of the mortal realm.

For example, the Hunters' long-overdue uniform update.

"Come now, Zoë, I _liked _that one."

Zoë gave her a pained, long suffering look. "It does compliment the summer uniform nicely, my lady, but you know my feelings toward down vests."

Artemis was forced to concede that she did, in fact, know her lieutenant's feelings toward down vests. They were similar to her feelings toward leeches, scorpions and Apollo's running shoes-valued by some and a necessary part of certain ecosystems, but nevertheless to be avoided at all costs. As a result, the goddess made certain to include them in as many uniform lineups as possible.

She fought back a smile. "Very well. White fleece, then, for the fall uniform, we'll deal with next summer's update in January-and I believe we decided on parkas again for winter, where was..." Zoë glanced over the sprawl of Olympian catalogues and tugged one out from under the edge of the comforter, where a neon-green sticky note that had seen better days doggedly marked the page in question. "Ah, yes. Thank you."

"Of course." Zoë leaned over to copy down the product number and color designation on her official order form.

Artemis could remember a time when making a personal appearance as Goddess of the Hunt (and, not so incidentally, patron of the Amazons) would result in much more than simply being handed a pile of catalogues and a how-to guide on sizing. She was paying serious thought to revoking her patronage, but then again they _did _give her free shipping and a 10% discount.

Zoë gathered together the excess catalogues, looking distracted by something. "If that is everything, my lady..." She straightened them unconsciously before setting the stack on her goddess' dresser. The furniture, much like the house itself, was mainly for show, and also for the rare occasions when the Hunters had to stay on Olympus overnight. "May I use your shower?"

"By all means," Artemis said idly, looking over the form and quickly jotting in an order of gray down vests while Zoë wasn't looking. "Hungry? I believe there's a mortal banquet somewhere in the market. I could send a satyr."

Zoë declined, and disappeared somewhere in the next room. In all honesty, she probably knew her way around better than the goddess. All gods traditionally had a 'palace' somewhere on Olympus, some larger and flashier than others; Apollo's enormous, jewel-encrusted three-story monstrosity of glowing gold ("Complete with indoor pool, wall-to-wall plasma TV, every gaming system known to man, triple surround-sound" and that was usually when she stopped listening) stood out particularly vividly in the mind. Some were actually quite pleasant; Athena's usually hard exterior tended to melt when you saw her in a practical living room with worn, comfortable armchairs, every available surface overflowing with books and a mug of coffee that never seemed to get cold sitting on a side table.

Artemis' home, however, was and would always be her forests. As a result, she had absolutely no idea what was meant to be in her 'palace' and had settled for the basics. It was as deep in the woods of Olympus as was possible without coming around on the other side, and a great many strange creatures had a tendency to turn up on her doorstep and beg for crackers. From the outside it was a small, trite little hunting lodge, while the inside was much larger and constructed mostly of silver-gray marble.

She knew that one room had a squishy sofa, warm blankets, wooden walls and a fireplace because she and Zoë always seemed to end up there on the winter solstice; any one of the rooms that theoretically existed was likely to play host to a hunting hound of some kind at any given moment, and all of them had large, easily-opened windows; somewhere there were beds for the Hunters if they ever had to stay here. The master bedroom, as she supposed it technically was, was really only ever used because she and Zoë needed _somewhere _to conduct the once-a-decade uniform upgrade.

A soft sound, the quiet clink of metal against stone, made Artemis look up. The once-a-decade uniform upgrade was promptly forgotten.

Nor, clearly, was Artemis the only one to have forgotten it. She supposed it would not be entirely inaccurate to say that her lieutenant was wearing chainmail; but sheer, silvery mail that covered only what was absolutely necessary. The long, heavy hooded cloak around the girl's shoulders provided only glimpses, but that was enough.

Zoë hesitated at the threshold, one hand resting lightly on the doorframe as the delicate links tinkled against the marble. They shifted and caught the light in fascinating ways as she slipped slowly, barefoot, into the room. Thin, pale silver ribbons were woven loosely into the nymph's dark hair, tumbling free down her back as it had been perhaps once in the last three centuries-which the Goddess of the Hunt told herself sternly should not affect her quite as strongly as it did (but, _Tartarus_...)

_Hunting_, Artemis told herself sternly. _Monster dust. The price of arrows in Sparta. Mosquitoes. Phoenix, Arizona in summer watching for signs of breeding dragons. _Surely that trip had been miserable enough that the mere memory of it... would... that is...

Apparently not, she thought with a hint of exasperation. Oh, she remembered the trip, sure enough-it was an infamous chapter of Hunter history that had very nearly led to a mutiny. As it was, she had been forced to swear on the Styx that she would never make them do it again, after first rescuing Zoë from a cactus patch and confiscating Ari's explosives.

But she also remembered Zoë as she had been on that mission. Sprawled in the scrap of shade provided by a crumbling brick wall, silver jacket long since discarded in favor of a plain white tank top and dusty jeans rolled up to her knees, snakes be damned; covered in a thin sheen of sweat and grinning ruefully as she took a swig from a cold water bottle before emptying it over her head.

This was not at all helpful.

The Zoë in the present time gave a smile that was somewhere between embarrassed and hopeful, absently twitching the edges of the flowing white cloak closer to herself. "You know I have never quite mastered the art of gift-giving, Lady Artemis. I...I hope this is not too..."

Artemis, throat suddenly extremely dry, picked up the order form and placed it _very _carefully off to the side. "I assure you, Zoë," she managed, looking around in case a glass of water had miraculously appeared, "that I am quite.. displeased is not a word I would use. In the slightest."

The Huntress-_the_ Huntress, and how long had Artemis thought of her that way, the only one who really mattered?-gave a light blush and ducked her head, hiding behind the hood of her cloak in a manner that gave her goddess a shrewd suspicion as to why she'd worn it. Somehow that tiny, characteristic grain of modesty shook her out her daze. Once the initial shock had been gotten over, after all...

...Well. This certainly beat the fuzzy socks Apollo had given her. And the solstice wasn't even really a moon-centric holiday.

A slow smile spread across her face as she approached her lieutenant, taking the time to look her over properly. Zoë glanced up long enough to read the appreciative look, then lowered her eyes again, hiding back behind her hood. Artemis slipped careful fingers along the inside of the soft fabric, ghosting along the silver embroidery, and paused. She recognized the thick, fine material, the pattern of a very specific flower along the edges of the hood...

The little minx, she'd _given_ her this cloak more than five hundred years ago. And it was no accident, she had to have realized what the reminder of that _particular_ hunting trip would do to her. The perfect midsummer moon and black hair unbound, the scent of clover and pine all mixed up with sugar and cherries and the smell of clean night air, the slight chill of a mountain-fed pool, murmured promises and the taste of honey and Olympian wine on both their tongues, and for the first time since the fall of Rome she'd remembered what it was to be a _goddess..._

She took a deep, calming breath, and it really only shook a little.

The Goddess of the Hunt flicked experienced eyes over her lieutenant, forcing herself to take a metaphorical step back and read her like she'd read any other prey creature. Sure enough, there it was; the slight tension, the tiny twitches of instinctive fear, the way she didn't make eye contact, the muted terror of a line overstepped...

She took Zoë's face gently between her hands and pressed a light kiss to the girl's lips. "You," she said softly, "are beautiful."

The honest statement brought its intended effect: a subtle relaxation in Zoë's shoulders, a slightly more confident lift to her head. The kiss deepened (slowly, unbearably slowly, but they had all the time in the world and every hunter knows that nothing good ever comes of rushing) and Artemis weakened enough to let herself run her fingers through Zoë's loose hair, just once, or maybe twice but that was _all_, before trailing down her shoulders and along her sides. The mail didn't really cover much at all... and if she spent a little more time than absolutely necessary running the very tips of her fingers down the curves of smooth, flawless, subtly glowing skin, well, Zoë had _offered_.

There was something unbearably intimate about the way her pulse pounded at her wrists, the way it jumped whenever Artemis found one more spot that she hadn't before and her Huntress melted, trustingly, into her touch.

Tonight, Zoë was _hers_.

A metallic _click_, no louder than the sound the metal links had made brushing her doorway, and Artemis took a single half-step back, watching her carefully as she blinked in the goddess' sudden absence and finally noticed the chain that had appeared at her wrists.

It was only slightly thicker than some necklace chains, slim and silver and oddly beautiful, and with cuffs no more than bracelets on each end; roughly two feet long, perhaps a little less. Delicate, almost fragile, even a child could have broken it with minimal effort. The point was no less made.

There was a pause while Zoë contemplated the development with a distant, unreadable look-a pause that went on just long enough for Artemis to start worrying.

Finally, she spoke.

"In the old days..." Zoë said slowly, "There was nothing considered quite so difficult, or so much of a feat, as to..." She stopped for a moment to look tentatively up at her goddess. "To have conquered an Amazon...not so much defeated, but to have had them surrender freely. Their repute has diminished, since... and even if they _do _believe they can conquer the world through online shopping and their mail-order process is needlessly irritating, they are nonetheless fierce warriors, and have never surrendered-" She cut herself off, paused, and ducked her head again. "And there was a reason for mentioning them, my lady, I swear, but I'm afraid I can't remember it..."

The corner of Artemis' mouth quirked as she drew the former Hesperide close again. "You are no Amazon, Zoë," she murmured, kissing her temple and moving down the curve of her ear. Sensing the slight hurt at her statement, she pulled back and gave her Hunter a reassuring ghost of a wink. "Have you forgotten?" she asked, gently teasing, easing a lock of hair the color of midnight carefully over the girl's shoulder, stroking her cheek. "I am the _patron _of the Amazons." Zoë plainly didn't see what that had to do with anything, and Artemis smiled again. "If any of the Amazons had been quite so lovely," she murmured against her temple, "I should think I would have noticed." Zoë blushed slightly again and tried to hide her face; a gentle finger tipped her head back up for a long kiss that tasted solidly of amusement.

When Artemis finally pulled away, her eyes were warm, all traces of humor gone. "Besides that," she said quietly, trailing delicate fingertips down her lieutenant's cheek, "You are a far rarer creature than any Amazon..." She ran the delicate chain between her fingers before placing it firmly in Zoë's hand. "...and I do not believe you _can _be conquered."

At those words, the very air in the room suddenly seemed to hum with tension. Not a negative tension, but something like suspense, the sense that something monumental was about to shift. It was not unlike the stillness before a storm breaks, or the _feel _among a group of archers, of a hundred taut bowstrings in the moment before their release.

"I can be," Zoë whispered, so very softly only a goddess could have picked out the words. She looked up, stole a kiss before pulling away again, and there was no nervousness in her eyes, only trust and need and a love so deep it was almost pain. As she spoke, slowly, carefully, she gathered her thin chain into the palm of one hand. "I have been. Once."

"Zoë-"

Ignoring the protest that even Artemis didn't quite know the cause of, Zoë very pointedly took the goddess' hand and slipped her the chain. Holding her with her eyes and keeping her hands clasped around Artemis', every movement careful and measured, she dropped to one knee.

The moment lasted an eternity.

"You surrender, then?" Artemis asked softly.

The words had the feel of a ritual, almost, and Zoë's response, head bowed, was a simple, formal, "I do."

Unable to stand the sight of her friend, partner (something deep inside whispered_ more than that _and was brushed, for now, aside, because she was afraid to listen to it for too long) kneeling before her any longer, Artemis squeezed her hand and Zoë stood fluidly. The goddess sat on the edge of the bed, where not long ago they had been poring over uniform designs, and pulled the nymph down next to her.

"Your terms," she whispered, nuzzling along the smooth, copper-toned neck and wondering when, exactly, the world had gone mad.

"No terms," Zoë answered. Her voice was even and honest, and she rested her head gently on Artemis' auburn hair. "Everything I am, everything I will be..." She sat up and pressed a sudden kiss to her temple, and the tiny spark of mirth in her warm eyes set Artemis at ease again. Smiling, she reached over and pulled the tail of Zoë's cloak-tie, letting it fall free. A moment later, however, her eyes clouded with worry again.

"I ask nothing of you, Zoë," she said quietly, eyes flicking between Zoe's. "Nothing but honesty, and I have no reason to doubt that."

"I _know_, my lady," Zoë smiled. She leaned in again, closing the goddess' hands reassuringly over the pool of silver links. "Why else would I offer it?"

With a single lifted eyebrow to acknowledge the question, Artemis wound the thin chain once around her wrist, holding it loosely in one hand. Very well, then. "Do you trust me?" she murmured, letting her gaze wander over her lieutenant with warm intent, smiling to her herself when the expected slow blush smoldered to life. Her voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "...My captive warrior?"

She had time to register the alarmingly Ari-esque flash of mischief in Zoe's eyes before her question was answered decisively. With the chain around her wrist, Artemis could only go along for the ride when her temporary prisoner gave it an unexpected tug, pulling her off-balance. With a speed and dexterity that demonstrated exactly how she had managed to survive so long, Zoe ducked to the side, slipped Artemis' fingers free from the silver links, and came up on her elbows, hovering over the goddess with the chain tucked under them both, fingers brushing lightly over Artemis' temples.

"Do you?" she asked.

The goddess smiled slowly, and sealed it with a kiss.

* * *

**A/N:** What happened between Zoë and Artemis on Midsummer's Eve in medieval Europe is entirely their business.

By which I mean, of course, "Somebody go write a oneshot about it!" The fandom in general can consider this a challenge. And hey, if you write it, toss me a link!


End file.
